In my circuit of reading outdoorsy type blogs I swing by “ and a strong cup of coffee” every few months to catch up on Erin from Maine’s anti-tick fetish. I find her rants of repugnance and loathing for these disgusting creatures comical. I am right there with her.
(A strong cup of coffee) There I was, morning mug of coffee and the newspaper. Enjoy some quiet before the day started. I turned the page and there it was – another article about ticks. I shuttered and as I read the article, I was informed that I am basically doomed.
My hatred of those little disease-filled creepy crawlies has been chronicled twice before (1 and 2) but this brought it to a whole new level: babesiosis. And apparently its on track to rival Lyme disease in the tick-borne illness category. *Shutters* Keep Reading
Few things can put me in stage three linear panic quicker than seeing my pants turn black with a few billion of the bloodsucking miniature nightmares known as “sea ticks”. Or having a deer tick — which has a six foot vertical leap — jump over a log, unbutton my shirt and quickly make a home in that one part of my body I forgot to check when I shucked my clothes in the middle of the woods.
